The Stained Shield
by FlynnWriter
Summary: Ziva's thick shell can usually protect her from whatever comes her way. She knows there are cracks, and knows how to cover them. But the smallest chinks can go unnoticed and, if undefended, can leave her vulnerable. Because after all, sometimes the largest menaces come in the tiniest of packages. (No romance, just Tiva friendship. A bit of Ziva whump. Trigger warning: Suicide)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The apartment building's lobby was quiet, save for a few people milling around. Tony held the door for a delivery boy in his late twenties with his head down, counting his tips for the night. A young couple sat on the bench against the wall, holding hands and waiting for someone or something unknown. He smiled politely at them as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor and impatiently consulting his watch.

"Ziva?" Tony's voice echoed in the hallway as he knocked on her apartment door. "I know you're in there, Ziva, I can hear the TV." He drumrolled on the door with his knuckles, waiting for a few more annoying seconds before he stopped. "Come on. We're going to be late. We were going to the movie tonight, remember?" A kitchen timer dinged twice, then three times, then four… "Are you going to get that Ziva?" After no response, Tony tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and the deadbolt was too. "I'm coming in." He said, stepping over the threshold and shutting the heavy door behind him. He walked into the kitchen, shutting off the beeping timer and taking a pot of boiling spaghetti noodles off the burner. When she still didn't appear, he grew suspicious and turned off the stove. "Ziva?" he asked quietly. He pulled his Glock 19 from its holster under his jacket and held it at his side cautiously as he traipsed through the quiet apartment.

Suddenly, as he stepped into the living room where the TV was still blaring, he saw her. He cursed, running to the couch. Blood stained the cushions underneath her leg, and the wide gaping wound on her inside thigh was still spurting blood with every slowing heartbeat. Her skin had already lost its glow and seemed ghastly pale against her black tank top. He threw the his gun on the ground next to him and quickly dialed 911, setting the phone down on the floor next to him as he tried to stem the flowing blood. "Federal agent down." He shouted, pressing hard against her skin and sleek muscle. He could feel the skin gaping beneath his hand, and he dry-heaved. "This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS. I repeat, agent down. Colway Commons on Carpathia Road, we're in apartment 4C."

"Sir, are they responsive?"

"No, she's unconscious, slow pulse, shallow breathing. Bleeding from a wound on her inner thigh…God, I think it hit the artery." His hands were covered in her blood, a slick red coating that only grew darker as he tried to stop it.

"Get a tourniquet on it, if you can." The voice said. "There's an ambulance in the area, it's on its way to you now. Just stay calm, sir."

"Hurry. She's lost a lot of blood."

"Is there anyone else with you?"

"No, I just showed up and…God…Just get here."

"The medics should be arriving on scene now. Just hang in there." Tony heard steps bounding up the staircase and a pair of young, uniformed paramedics burst through the still-unlocked door hauling a portable stretcher and supply bags.

"You said it hit an artery?" The blond one asked Tony, who nodded in response.

"I've got pressure, but I couldn't get a tourniquet on."

"Good. You did the right thing." He looked up at the other medic, who handed him a tourniquet. "I'll get this on. Eddie, take over for him."

"You got it." His latex gloves laid bandages over Tony's hands. "On my say so." The medic commanded. "One…two…three…Let go." Tony sprang back, stumbling over the side table before righting his balance and stepping back.

"Is she going to be okay?" He asked, taking in the full scene. The apartment was, as usual, impeccably neat. There were no signs of struggle, but knowing Ziva, if she had been attacked she would have fought like hell. Suddenly, he saw a small scalpel on the floor, the bloody silver blade peeking out from underneath the couch. Realization dawned, and he took another step back. "No." He said quietly. "She wouldn't…"

The blond medic looked up at Tony's stricken face. "What did you say?"

He stuttered, not fully comprehending the nascent idea forming in his mind in his mind. "I think she tried to kill herself."

* * *

"Boss?" Tony asked huskily. The medics had taken Ziva away; he could hear the sirens growing weaker in the distance. His still-bloody hand clutched the cell phone to his ear as he began to grasp the gravity of the situation. His eyes flickered around the small living room, and he noticed the tv was still on, showing some Spanish game show. The contestants smiled raptly at the host and laughed on cue as Tony swallowed a brief wave of nausea.

"DiNozzo? What's going on?" Gibbs' voice was tired, and Tony could hear the rasp of sanding in the background. He was in his basement again, making some other wooden creation. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's Ziva." Gibbs didn't say anything, and Tony continued as he found the remote, shutting off the program. "Boss, she…she…"

"Tony." Gibbs interrupted brusquely. "Is she alive?"

"She's on her way to the hospital. I found her, in her living room. Gibbs, she tried to commit suicide." He heard Gibbs' footsteps and a door slamming over the line. Tony slid down against the wall, sitting with his head on his knees.

"What hospital?" Gibbs asked, his voice sharp and commanding, yet impassive.

"I…I didn't ask. Bethesda is closest, I think." He felt horrible, and guilt grew in his stomach.

"I'll check. You're still in her apartment?"

Tony nodded silently before he realized he was still on the phone. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm here." From his vantage on the floor, he could plainly see the knife, glinting dully in the soft lamplight.

"I'll come to you. Just stay put." A slight pause, and Gibbs spoke again. "I'll let everyone know."

"Boss?" Over the line, Tony could hear the roar of an engine, and a slight squeal of tires. He closed his eyes, knowing that Gibbs was on the way.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell them. That she…you know. Just wait, until we can tell them in person."

For the first time during the conversation, Gibbs sounded…old. "Will do, DiNozzo. I'm on my way. See you in ten." The line clicked, and he was gone.

Tony responded automatically, speaking to the dead air. "See you in ten."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tony was still sitting on the floor when Gibbs arrived fifteen minutes later, scratching at his bloody hands. The blood was drying now, staining him with the sticky reminder. The door creaked open, and he looked up to Gibbs, whose face betrayed no outright emotion. "You okay?" He asked, assessing the room. The bloodstain where she had laid on the couch was a deep maroon, only a few shades darker than the light brown couch.

"I'm fine." Tony said stonily. He looked at his hands for what seemed like the first time, examining them sadly. "Why did she do it?'

"Why are you sure that she did?" Gibbs questioned, gently sitting down next to Tony. He didn't say anything, merely pointed to the bloody scalpel. Gibbs got up and walked over, snapping on a glove to pull it out from under the couch. He set it on the coffee table and walked around the rest of the apartment

"It was one cut, directly into the femoral artery. There's no sign of a struggle." He calmly stood up, walking into the kitchen. "I need to wash my hands." A mug of tea sat on the counter next to the sink, only half drunk. "It's like she just…decided. In the middle of making dinner, she just…I mean, what makes her think it's okay just to give up? Just stop life?" He asked. He scrubbed his hands, the motions intensifying as he worked to scratch off what had dried on. When he finally got it all off, his hands were raw, and the pure, cool water felt good. He poured her forgotten tea down the drain and rinsed the cup, putting it back away in her cupboards.

"I think…" Gibbs started, talking slowly to make sure he said the right thing. "I think we need to wait for Ziva to tell us herself."

The pot of noodles that Tony had taken off earlier stared him down, and he poured them down the drain, flipping on the disposal. The loud, harsh whirring surprised him, and he quickly shut it off. "And if she can't?"

"She will. She's strong."

Tony laughed humorlessly, one low guffaw. He rinsed the pot too, drying it and then throwing the towel on the counter. "See, I thought she was," he said, his tone colored with anger and sadness. "And then this happens…"

"You finished?" Gibbs interrupted sternly. He had never seen Tony like this; the man was angry but hurt at the same time, and it manifested in a sulky surliness unmatched by any attitude of his that Gibbs had seen. "Because she's in the hospital. And she could probably use us right about now."

"Yeah, I'm done." He said quickly, folding the towel and throwing it over the rack. "Let's go."

* * *

Tony and Gibbs walked into the lobby of the hospital to the anguished faces of their friends. Abby leaned against McGee, tears in her eyes. He rested his head back against the cold plaster behind him, staring listlessly at the opposite wall, and didn't notice when Gibbs and Tony came in. Ducky was sitting beside them, the newspaper in his hands not holding his attention. He stood up, his face grave, and walked over to them. His voice was quiet. "She's in critical condition, Jethro. The only thing they would tell me is that she lost a lot of blood." McGee and Abby stood up and joined the cluster, and Abby gasped when she noticed Tony's bloody shirt underneath his jacket.

"What on earth happened?" McGee asked.

Tony zipped his jacket up to cover the stains and cleared his throat. "I went to Ziva's house and the door was unlocked. When I went inside, she was lying on the couch. She had cut her femoral artery, and was unconscious by the time I got to her."

"Tony…" Ducky frowned. "You said that she cut herself. You don't mean…"

"That's exactly what I mean." Tony said. His eyes stormed with hurt and anger.

McGee's face was white. "Did she leave a note?" He asked quietly, holding Abby tightly in his arms. For once, she was speechless. Her eyes were innocent and void of emotion, as if she had to reevaluate everything she had ever known.

"No. No note." Gibbs said. "Listen. She's alive."

"Quite right, Jethro. I'll see what else I can learn from the doctors." Ducky walked away slowly, his age showing as he struggled to hide the anguish that had spread across his face.

"I need to call the director." Gibbs pulled out his cell phone, already walking away, but Tony stopped him.

"I'll do that boss. You stay with Abby." He stalked away, zipping his jacket up to his throat. He pulled out his cell phone, sticky with spots of dried blood, and dialed quickly. .

As the others watched Tony leave, his depressed mood pervaded the room. Gibbs took Abby in his arms, leading her back to the chairs. "How are you doing, Abs?" She snuggled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of sawdust. McGee sat down on her other side, slouching miserably.

"Why would she do that, Gibbs?" She sighed, fiddling with the leather cuff around her wrist. "It just doesn't make sense to me. Did something happen?"

"I can't answer that, Abs." His sharp eyes found Ducky, walking back from the nurses' desk.

"No news yet, Jethro." His English accent was more clipped than usual, betraying the emotion unfurling inside him. "But no news tends to be good news."

"I'll believe it when I see it Duck." Gibbs responded as Ducky sat down next to him. They didn't say anything else, but just waited for news. From the doctors, from Tony, from Ziva herself…all they wanted was answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tony stood alone in the dark room, staring obstinately at Ziva's still body tucked underneath starched covers in a hospital bed. Her sleek dark hair was unfurled over her shoulder, shorter curls resting just beneath her chin. He wanted to brush them away, to fix her somehow, but nothing seemed quite right. Nobody could tell from her flawless face what had been going on inside her, even Tony. "Why'd you do it?" He asked quietly, striding over to the bed. He stood over her, a mixture of abandonment and betrayal flickering across his face. "Huh? Why, Ziva? Why this, why now?"

His anger and hurt ebbed, and he returned to the window, looking out on the sprawl of Bethesda beneath him. In the distance, he could barely make out the Washington Monument, lit brightly against the navy-blue curtain of a city's night. "You can't just leave us like that, Ziva. You have to give us a chance to fight for you first." He ran his hands through his hair and looked at his stained button down shirt. Slowly, he unzipped his jacket, unbuttoned the top two buttons, and slid the shirt off, balling it up and throwing it in the corner. The blood had soaked through even to his white undershirt, so he pulled that off as well, zipping his jacket back up over his naked chest. "You didn't even think of calling me to cancel the movie, huh? Did you want me to find you?"

He sighed angrily. "You even left the door unlocked for me. How thoughtful." His sarcasm was laced with pain, and his eyes hardened as he blinked back a tear. "What the hell, Ziva?" There was a cushy recliner in the corner of the room, and he punched the back of it before sitting down tiredly. "What the hell?" He muttered to himself, bending over and dropping his head into his hands. He sat there a few moments, until a beam of light spilled across his shoes. He looked up squinting, and saw a woman step into the room. "Rachel? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Cranston stepped into the room, observing Tony thoughtfully. "Ziva is a friend. I just wanted to make sure you were all doing alright."

"Did the director call you?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"I'm here as a friend first, and your team's psychologist second. How are you doing?" She hung her purse and coat on a hook next to the door and walked over to Tony, leaning against the wall next to him.

"As an agent or as a friend?" He responded icily. "Now's really not the time, doc."

"There's never going to be a right time to talk, Tony. Director Vance told me you were the one to find her. Why were you at her house?"

"We were going to walk to a theatre down the street from her apartment to see the new Fast and Furious movie. We've been trying to get together for a while, but it never worked out."

"Has she been drifting away from you? From the team?"

"No. We've just been busy." His tone was bitterly defensive, and Rachel mentally took a step back.

"Tony, I understand that you're angry at her, and hurt. That's a perfectly natural reaction."

"I'm fine, Dr. Cranston." Her official title sounded cold and impersonal. "You should save your questions until she wakes up."

"Oh, I have plenty of things to ask her, Tony. If you want to talk later, fine, but we need to talk about this. You can't ignore that your colleague and good friend just tried to commit suicide." She brushed her curls behind her ears and leaned against the end of Ziva's bed, facing Tony directly. "Did anything happen recently? In the field?"

"We just finished a case. Ziva shot the suspect in the shoulder, and he and the victim are recovering in the hospital. No one died, it was a success." His monotone voice seemed lost in memory, and Rachel prompted him.

"Did anything happen differently than it was supposed to? Was anything personal?"

"No. There was nothing off about the case. It was cut and dry, a good shooting, no questions." Rachel considered this, and pondered something else that had been lingering at the back of her mind.

"Has she talked to anyone since her father died?"

Tony shook his head slowly. "Not to me. Gibbs, maybe. Her friend Schmeil, maybe. But me? No."

"Why doesn't she confide in you?" Her probing eyes and questions bothered Tony, for reasons he couldn't pinpoint.

"I don't know Doc, you're the psychologist." He stood up and walked to the window again, hands in his pockets. The horizon was lightening to the gradual ombré of color just before the first rays of sun appear, a scene only seen at times this early in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and turned around again. "You probably know more about the workings of the great mind of Ziva David than I do."

"Ah. So you're confused. You don't know why she would do this."

"And you're not confused?" Tony ranted. "What, did you expect this? Were you surprised when you got the call?"

"Tony, calm down. I'm trying to help you." He seethed, but didn't respond. "I just wanted to explain something. Ziva was under a lot of pressure, mostly from herself. She expects herself to be perfect in everything that she does. Tony, you see it every day. Her desk is neat, her shooting is impeccable, and she hates showing emotion and losing control. If she doesn't measure up, then she punishes herself."

"So you think all this…is because she isn't perfect?"

"And she was losing control of her own life."

"I don't care." Tony spat, pacing in front of the window. Venom burned in his voice. "It was cowardly. She could have come to me, she could have talked to somebody. I really don't care what—"

"Tony!" Gibbs' voice interrupted his soliloquy, and immediately Tony stopped.

"Gibbs, I—" He tried to explain, but Gibbs stopped him again.

"Walk away, Tony. Go wait with the others, go take a walk, just get out of here." Gibbs' eyes bored into Tony's and he walked out of the room in quick, hurried strides, leaving his ball of bloody clothing behind. "Dr. Cranston." Gibbs nodded. "Thanks for coming."

"Any time, Gibbs. Understandably, your team's going to be shaken up by what happened here, and I'm going to wait to talk to them. But primarily, I'm here for Ziva."

"Was she a patient of yours, doc?"

"We've only officially talked that one time, if that's what you mean. But I've reviewed her casework and personnel file, and studied transcripts of some of her interrogations. I know all about her professional life. Care to talk about her personal life?"

"Not much to talk about, Rachel." He sat down in the chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "But ask away."

"After Eli David died, did she come to you?"

"No. She dealt with that in her own way. We all tried to help, but she didn't really accept anything. She talked to Schmeil, he was an old family friend."

"But she was otherwise unaffected?"

"Unaffected is not the right word for it. She just processed what happened…quickly. And then she came back to work. I wasn't about to turn her away." He looked at her still body, watching her chest rise and fall infinitesimally with each breath. "I don't think you believe this doctor, but she would have asked for help if she needed it."

"So what do you think happened?"

"She's proud, but she's also emotionally vulnerable, especially now, after her father died, the last member of her family." He spoke unusually slowly, as if still piecing together the puzzle in his mind. "I don't know what happened that night. Ziva tried to commit suicide, and I don't know why. I'm not sure if you do either. But I know she did, and until she wakes up, that's enough."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Gibbs was drowsing off lazily as the sun came up, coating the room in soft morning light. Ziva's doctor, a young male who looked young enough to be straight out of med school, came into the room, checking her vitals off on the clipboard that hung at the end of the bed. Gibbs opened his eyes and watched the doctor fiddling with instruments. "How's she doing?"

"Oh!" He said, startled. "I didn't realize you were awake, Special Agent Gibbs. Um, she's doing well. Her blood levels are still low, but I'm taking her off the sedatives, so she'll wake up quite soon. There will be minor dizziness and disorientation, and she'll have to stay here for a couple more days to recover, but it won't take long." He chuckled. "Besides, who doesn't like a vacation now and then?"

"You think this is a vacation?" He said sternly. The young man looked up, a little bit intimidated, and started backtracking.

"I didn't mean it like that, sir. It's awful, what happened to her. I was just suggesting that a little rest might be good mentally as well as physically." He walked out of the room, muttering something about joking, and Gibbs returned to his chair, idly toying with his empty coffee cup. He threw it at the small trash bin in the corner, and it bounced in, bringing a small smile on his face.

The smile widened when he noticed Ziva stirring. "Ziver?" He whispered, walking over to the bed. "You awake?" He set his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it in small circles. "Open your eyes, Ziva."

She blinked, squinting at the bright light. "Gibbs?"

"I'm right here, Ziva. Look at me. You're okay. You're in the hospital." Her eyes were bright, but frightened.

"What happened?" She tried to sit up, but Gibbs gently held her down.

"I'll explain everything later. How are you feeling?"

She considered this for a minute, slowly taking inventory of her body. "I'm dizzy." She finally concluded. "Why is there a cut on my leg?"

"You don't remember?" She shook her head, and he stood over her, unsure of what to do. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Lunch with McGee. Tuesday, I think. We got a call to meet you somewhere…near NCIS, I think. We got in the car…was there an accident? Is Tim okay?"

"Tim's fine." Gibbs assured her. "I'm going to go get a doctor, okay? Just relax." He walked out of the room, and was mobbed.

"Is she awake?" Abby was the first one to speak, blurting the words out before anyone else could take a breath. "Did she say anything?" McGee, Ducky, and Palmer crowded around Gibbs and Abby, and DiNozzo's conspicuous absence was filled by Dr. Cranston.

"She's awake. But, she doesn't remember anything about it. The last thing she remembers is eating lunch with Tim."

"But Gibbs…" He said, thinking. "That was almost three days ago. Right when we got the case."

"Short term memory loss isn't uncommon after traumatic events." Dr. Cranston said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "But then again, lying about it isn't all that uncommon after attempted suicide either. Do you mind if I talk to her?" Her blasé attitude was out of place in the rest of their concerned expressions, and it made Gibbs think.

"She needs to see a doctor first, but we'll ask him not to tell her until we're there too."

"We?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows. "Whatever Ziva reveals to me is confidential."

"We'll ask her." Gibbs said confidently. "She can choose to include me in your sessions. It's not a mandatory psych eval."

"Fine. We'll ask Ziva." She consented, knowing she had lost the battle. "When can we do this?"

"I'll get the doctor now."

* * *

The doctor looked up from his checklist, smiling brilliantly at Ziva. It probably wasn't often he got to treat beautiful women close to his own age. "So you'll stay here until your blood cell counts are back to normal and we're sure there's not an infection. For now, we'll put you on some anti-nausea drugs and keep you in bed until the dizziness subsides. Sound good?"

"Thank you doctor." She smiled back, easily dazzling him. He walked out slowly, checking back over his shoulder, but was finally gone.

"Gibbs, Rachel…" Ziva said, slipping back into her normal self. "What happened? It was not a car accident, I know that for sure." The last sentence was directed at Gibbs, but he was unabashed.

"Ziva, Agent DiNozzo found you in your house last night bleeding." Rachel said softly. She hesitated, but Ziva's face was impassable. "It appears you had cut yourself, into your femoral artery." She inhaled deeply, sorrow and confusion darkening her already inky eyes.

"I tried to kill myself?"

Gibbs cleared his throat. He hadn't been expecting the upswell of emotion at her reaction; he hadn't really been expecting anything. "There were no signs of forced entry, Ziver. No signs of a struggle."

"What did I cut myself with?" She asked, tilting her head to look directly at Gibbs. "What did I use?"

"A scalpel." He admitted. "We found it underneath your couch; it could have dropped out of your hand when you passed out." She nodded lightly, like it was beginning to make some sense.

"I have one in my emergency medical kit." She breathed, closing her eyes as if picturing it in her head. "You are sure it was me? I just…do not remember it at all. Wouldn't I remember something like that?"

"Short term memory loss after trauma is pretty common. Were you depressed for long periods of time before this?" The blunt question surprised both Gibbs and Ziva.

"What kind of question is that?" Gibbs asked angrily. "You don't just ask her that."

"No, I was not." Ziva answered quickly. "It is okay, Gibbs."

"Then whatever caused you to attempt suicide was probably a large emotional trauma. It could be the reason that you don't remember so much of the week."

"What day is it?" She asked. "Isn't it Wednesday?"

"It's Friday morning, Ziver." Gibbs said gently. "Tony found you in your apartment last night, Thursday night. You were going to a movie together."

"Fast and Furious." She remembered. "We planned that Sunday. Do you know what…'emotional trauma' I might have sustained?"

"I have no idea." Rachel admitted. "Your team closed a case, but we don't know anything after that about what you did when you got home, or who you talked to."

"So what happens now?"

"Once you're well enough to leave the hospital, they'll transfer you to a secure ward." Rachel said gently. "They will treat you, and release you you're ready."

"I am not suicidal." Ziva tried to explain. She motioned to her leg. "This? I don't remember this. I don't know why I would have done that. I have never even considered suicide before. This is not me. You know that, Gibbs."

Before he could respond, Dr. Cranston stepped in. "Ziva, you may not be right now, but something happened to make you feel that way. We don't know what it is, but we know how you reacted. We don't know if you'll react the same way again."

"So keep me out of the field. Make me stay with someone. Don't put me in a locked ward like an animal." Ziva protested evenly. Even when presented with the facts, she was controlled and revealed little emotion.

Gibbs looked her in the eyes, and his stoic pity won her over. "It's to keep you safe, Ziver. Please, just do it."

"I want to read the case file. I need to know what happened, try to regain my memory."

"You can do that." He paused, reading her face. She was exhausted, he could tell, but also suspicious. She was searching for answers, digging into the depths of her brain to find the one connecting thread that would bring down the wall in her head and reveal the memories. "Ziva, do you think you're ready for some visitors?"

"I suppose so." She said coyly, still lost in thought. Gibbs opened the door, and Abby burst into the room, unleashing Ziva's first real smile since she woke up.

"Ziva!" She cried, hugging her awkwardly. "God, we were so worried. I'm so glad you're okay."

Ducky and McGee crowded in too, smiles plastered over their faces. "Hey Ziva." McGee said gently. "How are you doing?"

"Little bit dizzy, a little bit confused."

"Well that's understandable." Ducky answered. "You've been through a lot."

"Apparently." Ziva smiled. "Not that I remember any of it." She yawned widely and sighed.

"You should rest." Ducky said, idly looking at her charts. "Blood loss can make you quite sleepy. All of you, out." He shooed them from the room, patting her leg as he closed the door after they had filed out. "You'll be okay, Ziva. Just rest for now." He closed the curtains , sitting down in the chair. "Your friends will be here when you wake up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ziva opened her eyes a few hours later to angry chatter coming from the doorway outside her room. She recognized DiNozzo's voice and McGee's, but they were too muffled for her to understand clearly what they were saying. She recognized her name a few times, and her curiosity was piqued. Even more so when she heard heavy footsteps quickly walking away.

McGee walked back into the room carrying a newspaper and a file, and immediately blanched. "Crap, Ziva, did we wake you?"

"It is alright, McGee. I have been sleeping for long enough." She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "Too long, I think."

"I'm so sorry." He said, sitting down next to the bed.

"What were you arguing about?" She asked, reaching for a glass of water on the bedside table. She was a lot less dizzy now, and the headache from the night before had mostly subsided. McGee paused for a moment, as if debating whether or not to tell her. "McGee, I may be in a hospital bed, but my powers of persuasion are as sharp as ever." She smiled as she said it, and apparently, her subtle threat worked.

McGee threw the file on the bed next to her. "It's the case file. DiNozzo didn't think you should be able to see it yet."

"Why? What is in it?" She asked, grabbing it and quickly scanning the notes.

"That's just the thing. There's nothing unusual in it. He's just being overprotective, I guess." McGee opened the newspaper he had brought, nestling into the chair, and Ziva propped herself up on some pillows, spreading the file in front of her.

"I can feel your eyes on me." She said a couple of minutes later, without looking up from the report. "You haven't turned a page yet, barely even rustled it." She held one of the pictures in her hand, examining it from every angle. "Ask me."

"No. You don't know the answer." McGee said, setting down the paper. He watched her working, and couldn't find anything different about her. "I'm not even sure if it applies." He continued.

"In what way?" She looked up, ensnaring him in her gaze.

"I don't think you actually…you know, did it." He said it sheepishly, as if waiting for reprimand.

"No, I do not think so either. But, naturally, until I get my memory back, I cannot be sure." She said it so calmly, so authoritatively. It was like whatever the outcome, she was not concerned with the consequences. "And that's why I wanted this. Thank you, McGee."

"Not a problem." McGee answered, going back to reading. "Hey Ziva?"

"Mhm?" She answered, engrossed in the tactical report from the showdown with the suspect.

"If you did try to kill yourself, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

She froze for a second, but recovered. "I didn't. I may not remember, but I know myself." They resumed reading their respective materials, and eventually, McGee fell asleep in the chair. When she looked up and saw him, a small smile appeared on her face. She tucked everything back into the file, setting it on the bedside table and leaning back into the pillows.

It had been a hellish night of twisting and turning, and although she wasn't necessarily sleepy, her body could feel the effects of the blood she had lost. The blood she had taken? No matter what everyone else said, Ziva didn't believe it. Something about the case report didn't sit right, sure, but she was telling the truth when she told Gibbs and Rachel that she had never even considered suicide.

A flicker of motion caught her eye, and she looked at the door, seeing Abby. She smiled, but held a finger to her lips, motioning towards McGee. Abby saw him and marched over, looking livid. "McGee!" She yelled indignantly, hitting his shoulder with her purse. "Wake up!"

"What? Abby, stop!" McGee said, reaching up to defend himself. "What are you doing?"

"It was your turn to stay with Ziva, not your turn to take a nap!"

"Wait…you guys are taking turns staying with me? Why?" McGee and Abby looked at her guiltily. "No…you don't really think…" Anger was building in her. "I did not try to kill myself, and I am not going to try again! Why does no one believe me?"

Her protests could be heard in the hallway, and Rachel poked her head in. "You guys okay in here?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Alright then." She said, stepping into the room. "Anything I can do?"

"I do not need a sitter." Ziva said flatly. "If I remember anything, I will let you know. Until then, I appreciate company, but I would rather not be watched 24/7."

"You don't have a choice, Ziva." Rachel pointed out. "The hospital's not going to release you, so it's us with you in here, or you three floors up by yourself." Her harsh tone didn't faze Ziva, but the ultimatum did. She leaned back into the pillows, an unhappy expression on her face.

"Can we please stop assuming that I tried to kill myself, then?" She asked, waving the file. "There's something in here, I do not know what, but I can…feel it. I would not have tried to kill myself."

"When you know for sure, we'll leave you alone." Rachel said obstinately. "But for now, I think these guys are going to stay." She turned on one heel and walked out the door coolly.

"What's her deal?" Ziva wondered, before realizing she had said it aloud.

"She and Gibbs are knocking heads." Abby said, taking off her jacket. "He won't let her talk with you until we know more about what happened."

Ziva didn't answer at first; she was lost in her head, sifting through memories. Finally, she looked up at McGee. "Walk through it," she commanded. "Start at the beginning."

Abby sat down in the chair as McGee stood up and walked to the window, leaning against the cool glass. "So we were coming back from lunch on Wednesday…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"We had just gotten a call from Gibbs." McGee remembered. "A navy lieutenant was reported missing, Freya Valentine. We met Gibbs and DiNozzo at the house. The door was broken in, and there were definite signs of a struggle." Ziva picked up the pictures, arranging them in front of her.

"He came through the door, and she was eating dinner." She traced the route with her finger to a half-finished bowl of soup on the table. "They met here. She didn't put up much of a fight, but one of them got in a few good hits." Another photo, of blood drops on the carpet and a broken lamp. "Either she was knocked unconscious and carried, or she went willingly, because there's no more signs."

"That's what you said earlier." McGee smiled. "We got her computer back to Abby, and the blood drops to test for DNA."

"It was hers." Abby said, fidgetting with a sparkly pen. "There wasn't anything important on the computer, but her emails were interesting. She had more than one ex-boyfriend. Three, in fact."

"Why is that strange?" Ziva asked. "I happen to know you have at least that many."

"I don't email them every day." Abby clarified. "We barely keep in touch at all. Lieutenant Valentine, however, has a multitude of emails from each one of them."

"Were there any that stuck out as especially violent?"

"Valentine was kind of bipolar with her exes…she loved them one day, then hated them the next." McGee explained. "But only two of them had alibis. We had put out a BOLO from a neighbor's description of the car, and got a call that it had been spotted in a warehouse south of Boston." He pointed out the pictures and maps. "The description matched the car of a Chad Hassel, one of her exes. He had recently lost his job when the company went bankrupt, and was petitioning Lieutenant Valentine to let him live with her, but she was not exactly supportive of that idea."

"He had a record." Abby added. "For assault, in a bar fight five years ago. He has a temper."

"So he comes and abducts our victim?" Ziva said, reading the file again. "What good would that do him?"

"We have no idea." Abby commented. "They weren't very nice to each other, but he wouldn't actually gain anything by kidnapping her."

"We figured it would be a revenge killing." McGee said. "Although he was short on cash, so it could have been a ransom of some sort. Anyways, we met police at the Boston warehouse, which the company had owned and left vacant for a couple of years ago. Hassel was holding her pretty deep inside, and we found them and tried to negotiate. He wasn't backing down, but finally he put the gun to his own head. You shot him in the shoulder before he had a chance to pull the trigger."

She was looking at the tactical report, the black dot that marked the entrance point. "What were the conditions like? Good lighting, bad lighting? Open air? Visibility?"

"All good. Well, medium light, but we were still able to see." A troubled look crossed her face. "What?" McGee asked. "Do you remember something?"

"No, it's nothing." She said, gazing at the file a second longer before closing it and giving it back to McGee. He looked at her suspiciously, but decided to ignore it. "You're right. There's nothing out of the ordinary."

"It's only more proof that you're sane." McGee said, then backtracked. "Not that it means you're insane if you did…but, I mean…"

"I understand McGee. Has anyone looked at my apartment yet?"

"Tony and Gibbs did right after they found you." Abby said. "And CSU's been over it, but they didn't see anything. But really, it's CSU, so…"

"I can go back again, if you'd like me to." McGee said. "If you tell me something to look for."

"No, I wouldn't know unless I actually went back. You know, walked around the apartment. There is something you could do for me, though." A sly smile spread across her face. "Get me a laptop. I want to look through my emails. Abby, can you get my phone records?"

"Cell or landline?" She asked, already pulling out her own phone. "Both." Ziva answered. "I want to see who called me, and when."

* * *

Director Vance walked into the lobby, his presence immediately bringing McGee to his feet. "Director!" He said, straightening his jacket. His mouth closed, and he realized he had nothing else to say.

"Where's Gibbs, McGee?" His eyes were tired, his suit rumpled.

"Right behind you." Gibbs said, walking into the room. A new cup of coffee steamed in his hand, and McGee's stomach growled the delicious aroma. "Go get some lunch, McGee." Gibbs said, jerking his head towards the stairwell behind him. He grabbed his jacket and stepped out of the room, watching the pair curiously over his shoulder.

They in turn watched him leave, and double checked that the lobby was clear. "Abby's in with her now." Gibbs explained, motioning to the room behind him.

"How's she doing?" Vance asked, shaking off his long coat and settling into a chair.

"She's doing fairly well, considering. She doesn't remember the days before the accident, starting from the beginning of the Valentine case." He gave the file to Vance, who simply stowed it under his jacket.

"I'll read it later. Do you know if it's true? Did Ziva try to kill herself?"

"Unconfirmed." Gibbs said, staring stonily into Vance's questioning eyes.

"Well, what the hell is unconfirmed, Gibbs? There wasn't anyone else in that apartment. If she didn't do it, we wouldn't be here right now."

"I need to talk to her. Alone. Dr. Cranston is hovering over my shoulder, and that's not what Ziva needs right now."

"And if you're part of why she did this?"

"I'm not." He shot back, scarcely believing what he heard. "Did the shrink tell you that?"

"Dr. Cranston's psychological evaluations go directly to me, I think you know that Gibbs. In Ziva's last file, she noted that the relationship between you two was particularly strong, possibly a stressor point after the loss of Ziva's own father."

"Just let me talk to her, Leon. I can help her." Gibbs could see him weighing the alternatives in his head, and pressed further. "Off the books. I'll tell you and Dr. Cranston what you want to know, as long as it's not in her records."

"Fine." He agreed, still hesitating briefly. "Be careful with her."

"You're not even going to go in and see her?" Gibbs asked, seeing Vance shrug his coat back on.

"She doesn't need me right now, Gibbs. She needs you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Ziva's eyes were closed when he walked in, but immediately she opened them, tensing warily. "Just me." He said quietly, shutting the door behind him. She didn't say anything, but really, there wasn't anything to say. "I want to talk, Ziva. You read the case report, you know the facts."

"I don't remember anything, Gibbs." She replied, staring into his hard eyes. "I already told you that." But he could see something different about her. It was subtle, but it made him uneasy. There was something about the way that her eyes challenged him, holding on for a second too long until she looked away.

"I think you do. What aren't you telling me, Ziva?" He sat on the edge of the bed, bracing himself on one arm. "It's just me now, Ziva. No Dr. Cranston, no director Vance, no DiNozzo. Just me, and you."

"Gibbs, there's nothing to tell." Her face was smooth and composed, no different from another day at the office, but Gibbs could hear the change in her tone. It was there, and there was a reason for it. "I didn't do anything."

"I believe you, Ziva. Help me prove it," He pleaded. They looked at each other, locked in a silent stalemate. The hallways outside of the room buzzed insistently, but inside, it was like someone had pressed the pause button. The tense hush was broken by the demanding buzzing of Gibbs' cell phone, and he briefly looked away from her face to check the screen. "Abby…" He breathed, picking it up. "We're not done."

Ziva relaxed again, exhaling loudly. She was sick of their relentless questions, and as much as Gibbs said that he believed her, he wasn't doing anything to get her out of the hell that was the hospital. But she had seen something in the file. The tiniest of details, which would have seemed completely ordinary to anyone else's eye, had triggered a flood of memories in her brain. She could see it clearly, and what she saw planted the tiniest seed of doubt in her mind. Ziva nervously rubbed the soft cotton blanket with her left hand, and played it over in her head again. The echoing bang of the gunshot, the blood blooming in front of her, and the suspect's scream as he fell to the ground. She could recall the tang of gunsmoke in the air, feel the commotion of her team scurrying around her. She closed her eyes, breathing gently. It was a clean shot, piercing a perfectly round wound in the shoulder of the suspect…her victim.

"Ziva?" Gibbs interrupted, slipping his cell phone back onto his belt. "You alright?"

"I'm fine Gibbs." She replied, mentally shaking off the memories. "What did Abby want?"

"I had her test the blood on the scalpel from your apartment." Gibbs said, his face a mask of confusion and surprise. "Ziva, you were drugged."

"I was…what?" Her memories forgotten for now, she sat up straight against the back of the bed.

"Abby found traces of ketamine in the blood. It would have metabolized quickly, so it wouldn't have shown up on the tests they performed here, but it was still in the blood from your apartment."

"You're saying….I didn't try to kill myself?"

"Unless you gave yourself a horse tranquilizer."

"Gibbs, I need to get out of here." She shoved the covers down and swept her legs over the side of the bed like she was going to stand up. He gently pushed her back down.

"You're recovering. Besides, it's going to take some time to convince everyone else. They're not just going to let you up and walk out of here."

"Gibbs, if I didn't do it, then someone is trying to kill me. We both know that the only reason you're keeping me here is because you're concerned for my sanity. Well, I'm fine. I need to get home and figure out how he drugged me. You'll be with me the whole time. The only question is whether you take me or I take myself."

Gibbs thought for a moment, but realized that he agreed with her full-heartedly. He motioned to a bag of clothes that McGee had gotten from her house. "Get dressed. I'll go talk to the director."

* * *

Ziva hesitated outside her door, her keys clenched tightly in hand. Yellow police tape crossed the chestnut brown wood, partially obscuring the brass address plate. The lock clicked as it opened, and she stepped inside cautiously, observing the relative mess her apartment had become. Her couch was gone, leaving a line of small, round blood droplets in its wake. The papers on her desk, usually in neat piles, were scattered about the surface, obscuring the computer keyboard and mouse pad.

"What are you thinking?" Gibbs asked, searching her face for clues.

"Nothing's out of place, other than what you would have moved." She said carefully, still taking in the scene with the eye of an investigator. "Did you take my mug?" Her eyes had found the empty counter.

"DiNozzo put it away. You remember that?"

"No." She responded quickly, turning away from him. "I just leave it out every night, that's all." She plucked it out of the cupboard, putting a kettle on the stove to boil water for some tea. "Would you like a glass?"

"Nah, I'm good." Gibbs answered, following her into the kitchen. He checked his watch. "Ducky wants to check you out for puncture wounds."

"Gibbs, you can't be serious!" Ziva said, slamming the cupboard door closed. "I just got home!"

"Ziver, we need to figure out how he dosed you. There wasn't any forced entry into your apartment, I've checked twice. No tool marks, nothing broken. He had to have gotten you before you got home somehow."

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I do not know how he or she got to me. It could have been at work for all I know. At least let me be comfortable in my own home."

Gibbs waited and watched her moving about the kitchen, limping slightly on her sore leg. She touched it every couple of seconds, subconsciously feeling the slight bulge of the bandage under her dark jeans. "You remembered something." He said out of the blue. "You can't lie to me, Ziva, I know. What I don't know is why you didn't tell anyone."

She froze, placing he hands on the counter as if steadying herself. "I remember shooting him." she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "That's all."

"You did what you had to do." Gibbs said, sitting down on a stool in front of her. "You know that." He was confused, and rightly so. Ziva rarely ever showed any remorse after shooting a suspect. Even after killing her own brother, she moved with a quiet, stoic acceptance of what she had done.

"It's not that I shot someone, Gibbs. It's that I didn't shoot him in the head." Gibbs jerked back, surprised, and she continued. "Not like that. It's just…the timing, the hostage, the distance…I would have taken a headshot. So either I decided not to for some reason or…"

"Or you missed."

"Or I missed," she said heavily. The kettle whistles shrilly behind her, and she moved it off the burner, banging it down on a cool burner. The metallic clang echoed in the tense silence, and they both winced. "I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want you thinking I was suicidal." She poured the water over the tea infuser, watching as the rich color permeated the water.

"But you were." Gibbs offered.

"I wasn't sure." She corrected, sipping the bitterly hot tea. The liquid boiled in her throat, but it tasted good. "I had no way of knowing until I remembered what happened. But in the hospital…I was safe. You guys could protect me from myself."

"You aren't suicidal, Ziva. You might have missed a shot, but you're stronger than that." His eyes begged her to understand.

"I'm a mess, Gibbs." She said matter-of-factly, staring into the depths of her tea. "I just don't know anymore."

"I know. I know you, Ziva. You're strong." She wobbled a bit, and Gibbs stood up. "Ziva? You okay?"

"I'm fine. A bit dizzy." She rubbed her forehead. "I just need to eat something, I think."

"Hey, let's sit down." Gibbs said, taking the tea from her and leading her to the kitchen table. "Just relax." She sat down, but he could tell that she wasn't getting any better. She yawned, and her body began to sway.

"I don't feel good." Her chin nodded down to her chest, and her eyes closed drowsily. "Just want to…sleep…" she mumbled, leaning forward in the chair. A light sheen of sweat covered her face, and something in the back of Gibbs' mind recognized the symptoms.

"Son of a—Ziva, he dosed you again." He said loudly, holding her up firmly. "You need to get it out of your system." He ran back to the kitchen, pouring salt into a glass of water. "Drink this." He ordered, pulling her hair back from her face. She gulped it down, and leaned over, spitting some of it back onto the carpet.

"Gibbs, I'm dizzy." She said, holding her head in her hands. "Need to lay down."

"Hang in there, Ziver, just another minute or two. Hang on." Almost immediately she retched, the meager contents of her stomach spreading on the floor beneath her. She convulsed again, and Gibbs supported her limp body with his arm, dialing 911 with his fee hand.

"We're at Colway Commons, there's an officer in distress. She's barely conscious, possible poisoning."

She leaned on the table next to her, pressing her cheek against the cool wood. "Gibbs, I'm alright. I just need to sleep. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Ziva, stay awake for me. Right here. Stay with me." He scooped her up into his arms and laid her out on the floor. She was still mumbling incoherently, but it was clear that she was quickly losing consciousness. Gibbs grabbed a throw pillow from the chair next to him, but by the time he tucked it under her head, she was out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tony stormed through the doors of the hospital, walking straight up to Gibbs. "What the hell is going on here?" He raged, his face hard and angry. He was entirely disheveled, like he had been sleeping in his clothes for days. "First you tell me that she didn't commit suicide, and she's going home, then you call me and say she's back in the hospital?" He steamed, absolutely furious. At what, Gibbs couldn't tell.

"Tony!" Gibbs barked, standing up to his full height. Immediately, DiNozzo deflated, his shoulders curving inward. "Ziva's fine. She's awake, the doctors tested her, she's fine. She's just resting now."

"Boss, what happened?" He asked again, rubbing his forehead. He sank into a chair, shrugging out of his jacket. "I mean, you were with her, she was safe. Why wasn't she safe?"

"The ketamine was in her tea. You remember the mug you washed before you left?" Tony nodded mutely. "She made herself a cup when we got to the apartment. He must have mixed it in with the tea leaves. We didn't even think to check because there weren't signs of forced entry."

"How did he even get into her apartment, then?"

"No idea. We'll figure that out." Gibbs said, walking

"But she's okay."

"I am fine." Ziva said, walking out of the room. Her messenger bag was slung over her shoulder, and there was a determined look burning in her eyes. "I just want to get out of here."

"Let's go, then." Gibbs said, looking Tony squarely in the eye. "We're going to the navy yard; I'll go get the car." Before either one of them could protest, Gibbs strode away.

The two agents stared at each other for a moment before Ziva broke the silence. "Where were you?" She asked sharply. "Gibbs told me that the whole team was at my bedside. Except you."

"You do realize how petty you sound right now, right?" He asked icily.

"Where were you, Tony? I was sure that you at least would believe me." He remained stonily quiet, not meeting her eyes. "I thought you were a better friend than that." She matched his cool tone, but there was real hurt in her eyes.

"Ziva…"Tony started, but she was already out the door, sliding into the passenger seat of the waiting car. He sighed, climbing into the back seat. As Gibbs drove away, he watched the countryside sweep by past his window, colors blurring until he could no longer distinguish what passed before his eyes. He looked forward again, his eyes digging into the seatback in front of him as if he could see through it and into Ziva's head.

* * *

Ziva stepped out of the elevator at NCIS, and was struck by how long it seemed since she had been there. McGee got up from behind his desk, awkwardly knocking his chair back from his desk. "Ziva! How are you?" He embraced her tightly, holding her at arm's length and searching her for any signs of the events that had occurred.

"I am fine, McGee. Have you found anything?" Immediately, he swept back into his desk, sending pictures rapid-fire onto the big screens.

"Nothing yet. I'm going through the surveillance footage from last night, and so far there's only one person that I can't identify." He zoomed in on the mystery guest, making the footage even more blurry than it already was. "He keeps his face from the camera, and he's wearing a baseball cap, so I have no way of matching to facial recognition. There's no way to get prints, he was wearing gloves." He brought the picture back to its normal size just as DiNozzo walked in.

"Who's that?" He asked, staring hard at the screen.

"Just some random guy from Ziva's apartment." He said, moving on to other pictures.

"No, wait…go back." Tony commanded, his head cocked. "I recognize him…the pizza delivery boy. He left just as I was going up to your apartment!"

"You remember him?" Ziva asked, leaning against the front of her desk. "Then he's the one. He's the only one it could be, right McGee?"

"Well, well, I…everyone else is identified and alibied. It has to be him."

"Him who, McGee?" Gibbs asked, striding into the bullpen with coffee in hand. He handed a steaming cup of tea to Ziva, who looked at it distrustfully. "I checked it myself, Ziver. They opened a new box." She smiled gratefully, taking small sip.

"I saw this guy, Gibbs. He's a pizza delivery boy, he was walking out at the same time I came in." He looked shaken, and also a little angry.

"You remember this guy, DiNozzo? Can you describe him?"

"I think so." He said, scrunching his eyes shut. "But I'm not sure that I really saw his face. I mean, I had about the same vantage as the security camera. I saw the hat, the uniform, that's it."

"What kind of uniform was he wearing?" Ziva asked. "Any insignia, patches, logos?"

"I…no." He said, taken aback. "It's blank. Just a plain red polo shirt, and a plain black cap. I just assumed…he was counting some cash…"

"Ziva, was there any money missing from your apartment?" Gibbs asked.

"No, nothing."

"It was part of his disguise, then. " Gibbs said, focusing on the screen. "Tony, you don't remember anything about his face?"

"Nothing, boss. I barely even looked at the guy. How did he get into Ziva's apartment, anyways? Ziva, does anyone else have a key?"

"No one other than my land lord. But he's a retired cop. He wouldn't do anything like this."

"But he might have heard something, or saw someone outside. Tony, McGee, go talk to him." They heaved their backpack over the shoulders and quickly walked out of the bullpen, already arguing about who would drive. "We're going to go see Ducky." Gibbs said, gently pulling her by the arm. She went with him without a fight, depositing her jacket on her chair and grabbing her tea.

* * *

"Ziva, my dear, how wonderful to see you well again!" Ducky smiled, welcoming her into his arms. "Though I hear you had a little mishap at your apartment."

"Thank you Ducky. I feel fine. Really."

"Duck, we were wondering why Ziva's attacker made it look like she killed herself. It would have been easier to make it look like she overdosed. Would there be another reason, other than to avoid suspicion?" Gibbs leaned against one of the tabled, at rest for a second, as fleeting as it was.

"I can't think of anything that's a better reason than that." Ducky said, standing by Ziva's side. "We all…believed the story, that she tried to commit suicide. If we knew she had been murdered, we would have gone to the ends of the earth to pursue her killer…I know you, Jethro. You would."

"So someone's not trying to attract attention."

"But Ziva's a high value target. Even if it was suicide, NCIS and Mossad would both investigate, and a few other agencies would poke their noses in too. Someone would have found something that revealed the truth!"

"Not necessarily." Ziva said quietly, drawing their attention. "Not if one of them sanctioned it."

Gibbs looked at her disbelievingly. "You think that an agency put a hit out on you? Who?"

"There's plenty of people at Mossad who wouldn't mind me dead, and I have made enemies all over the world. But whoever it is, they will not stop until I'm dead."

"Why Mossad?"

Ziva hesitated, and Ducky jumped into the conversation again. "The cut on her thigh was meant to empty the body of blood in a very short amount of time. Mossad instructs their agents to cut the femoral artery or the carotid if they have no other means of committing suicide."

"I'm assuming you have suspects?" Gibbs asked.

"Quite a few. Too many, at this point. But something about it confuses me. Whoever did this was young and inexperienced. His cut was a little too high, so he only nicked the artery. If he had cut properly, I would be dead, without a question." She spoke calmly, as if the prospect of her death was normal, everyday conversation. "One can only assume that they're still after me. That should make it easy."

"Make what easy?" Ducky asked, looking between Ziva and Gibbs, who were conversing silently with their eyes.

"Setting a trap." Gibbs said, still staring at the stubborn woman in front of him. "With Ziva as bait."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"All set?" Gibbs' voice crackled in the earwig hidden under her hair. Ziva's soft, uneven steps filled the empty hallway, and she exhaled.

"I am clear." She whispered back. "Approaching the apartment now." She could feel the reassuring weight of the gun at her side, and was ready to reach for it should anything happen. She fiddled with her keys, finally picking out the right one and sliding it smoothly into the keyhole. The hardware on the door gleamed a bright, new gold, matching the shiny new silver key dangling from the keychain. For the first time, Ziva felt a glimmer of apprehension, caused by the sobering knowledge of what had caused the new locks to be installed.

The tumblers clicked cleanly, and she slowly opened the door, her free hand snaked to the semiautomatic on her side, just in case. Every shadow seemed out of place, and whether it was due to the strangeness of the situation or the haphazard techs she could not tell. She closed the door behind her and walked further into her house, turning on lights as she went. "All clear, Gibbs." She said out loud, speaking into the empty room. Lights blazed around her, the apartment as bright as it usually was during the day. Feeling somewhat silly, Ziva retraced her course and flipped off the lights, except for a solitary lamp next to the new couch, another new acquisition. "All good in here."

"Out here as well." Tony replied, joining the conversation. "No one in or out except the people we've vetted."

"Incidentally, your landlord replaced your locks for free." Gibbs noted. "After I told him to."

"He is a good man." Ziva responded quickly. "Not the best landlord." Gibbs response was unintelligible, and Ziva ignored it. She sank down onto the new couch, squirming spastically to find a comfortable position. She turned on the TV and wearily flipped through the channels while she listened to Gibbs' and Tony's muted jabberings in her ear. Suddenly, she stilled, her heightened senses picking up on something. "Gibbs?" The subtle alarm in her voice was not lost on the two agents, who immediately were on high alert.

"What's going on Ziva?" Tony muttered. "Talk to me."

"Nothing." Ziva responded slowly, still trying to discern what had set her off. "It is nothing, I am fine. Sorry."

"Not a problem, Ziver." Gibbs said. "How are you doing?"

"Just fine, Gibbs. Nothing is happening. Just me." She looked around the dim apartment, not able to shake the unease that had clung to her since she stepped over the threshold. "Is it safe for me to drink some tea?"

She heard Tony clear his throat. "Actually, Ziva, Abby's not done testing all your food. So far, about half of the food in your cupboards has had some trace of ketamine in it. Overkill, if you ask me." He realized what he said the moment after the words left his mouth. "Crap, Ziva. I'm sorry I didn't really mean…"

"It is fine, Tony." Ziva cut him off. "But he is right. Whoever did this, he was an amateur. What if I had overdosed on the ketamine? That rules out the staged suicide."

"That was probably his back-up plan." Gibbs' voice sounded tired. "He wanted you dead, Ziva. He assumed that the ketamine would take affect soon enough that he could subdue you, but he would have had a back-up plan. Wait…" She could hear them tapping on a keyboard, and she froze.

"What? What is going on, Gibbs? Tony?"

"Hang on, someone's coming in." Her hand snaked to the Glock on her hip, fingers wrapping around the textured grip. She waited as they frantically searched for the visitor, listening hard for footsteps coming down the hallway, or the slight click of the lock. _The lock._

"Gibbs?" Ziva whispered. "I never locked my door." Adrenaline rushed through her muscles, cramping them in place.

"It's okay, Ziver. False alarm. Lock it. Now." She let out the breath she had been holding and quickly strode over to the door, locking it and the deadbolt.

"What happened?" She asked out loud, sitting down heavily as the adrenaline slowly receded.

"Unannounced family visitor for your downstairs neighbor. Nothing to worry about." Tony said gently. "Why wasn't your door locked?"

"I was distracted." She replied, icily sarcastic. "I thought there was someone trying to kill me." He didn't reply, and Ziva closed her eyes. "Tony, I am sorry. I am just tired, that's all." Still, no one responded. "Tony? Gibbs?" She realized that she couldn't hear anything, not even static. The line was dead. Once again, she grabbed the Glock on her belt as a feeling of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. Ziva David was not one to be afraid in situations like this…but then again, Ziva David was not one to be drugged and attacked in her own apartment.

She shook of the thoughts pouring into her head and concentrated on the silence that seemed to be pouring into her apartment. The sound of her removing her gun from its holster was amplified in the dim light. She moved against the wall, slinking into her bedroom. Suddenly, she heard it. Boots clomped down the hallway, pausing just outside. A key turned in the lock, and the door creaked ever-so-quietly as it swung open. She braced herself for the moment her attacker stepped into the room, her sense in overdrive.

"Ziva?" Gibbs called. "Ziva, you in here?" Once again, her breath left her body in a relieved huff. She lowered the gun, stepping away from the wall and smiling. Her mind had only gone into overdrive, noticing things that weren't even there.

But suddenly, she felt the cool, hard tip of a barrel against the back of her neck. "You move, you die." The voice behind the German accent was unfamiliar, and she shivered. She could hear Gibbs and DiNozzo coming closer, but they had stopped calling out her name. Her attacker's arm slid around her neck, nestling her head into the crook of his elbow, and a smile spread across Ziva's face. This was the wrong move. In one smooth motion, she let her legs collapse as she yanked hard on his arm with one hand, the other going to the gun at the back of her head. As she shoved it away, she also swung her foot back, kicking him in the balls. A shot rang out, and she felt it breeze by her head as Gibbs and DiNozzo pounded into her room.

"Ziva!" Tony shouted, going to her side. She was leaning against the wall and panting, but he couldn't see anything truly wrong.

"I am alright Tony." She said, sinking down to sit on the floor. She was at eye level with her attacker, who grunted as Gibbs handcuffed him. "Better than alright. It is finally over."


End file.
